The 104th Class's Reunion
by SuperSandri
Summary: 10 years have passed since Sina Academy's 104th class graduated and took the next step in the new world. Now, the academy's alumni have returned to the city for the class's first ever reunion, and one long weekend filled with peculiar events. Modern and past high school AU. Multiple pairings.


**_104th Class Reunion _**

_Oh ho ho ho, here I go again with another AU idea. _

_Lets hope that this one works out this time. Truth be told, the updates might be staggered, because it's near the end of the year and I have exams and all that jazz. Also, play rehearsals, getting a driver's licence, praying my parents will let me borrow the truck, more schooling, more exams, and of course, life in general._

_Hope y'all like this, because it took me a weekend to write, and I got a buddy of mine to beta read it._

_Have fun. _

* * *

Jean's jeep moved rather smoothy among the streets, the driver and passenger feeling somewhat nervous in the familiar area. Looking out the window and up through the open top, Marco allowed himself to observe the area's buildings and peaceful looking people. Perhaps this place had changed more than he expected.

"Where is everyone meeting up again?" Jean re-asked, halting the car to a stop at a red light.

"I think it was that bar that we tried to use our fake IDs on," Marco reminded, straining his memories for the event details. "I think it was called Pixis's."

"Right, right," Jean agreed. "Hey, who do you think's gonna be there?"

"Well, if Eren's there, than Mikasa's no doubt coming, if things haven't changed over time however," Marco started, thinking of possibilities. "Connie and Sasha promised to come, same with Ymir and Historia. I'm not sure who else."

Jean nodded. Somehow, his voice tone became some-what sing-songy, "Hey, hey, hey, maybe Mina will be there!" He looked over to his friend and gave him an encouraging smile that seemed partially sarcastic.

Marco chuckled weakly, rubbing the tip of his nose nervously, "Yeah, maybe. I haven't spoken to her in years, man. She probably hates me."

"Why would she hate you? Your break up was mutual," Jean added, turning the wheel slowly and steadily.

"It was," Marco admitted sheepishly. "I just have a tendency to assume that all my ex-girlfriends hate will grow to hate my guts."

"Ah yes," Jean agreed mockingly. "You'll have an army of 3 people possibly chasing you at this very moment."

Momentarily, the car pulled to a stop at a traffic light, right beside a rather dark looking alley. Mindlessly, Marco let his right arm hang freely out of the car as he let his gaze rise up towards the tall apartment building, surveying the complex system of ladders called the fire escape. Marco soon noticed a window on the second floor opening, perhaps for the apartment tenant to enjoy the afternoon air. What he saw instead seemed to be the opposite.

A short and skinny tanned fellow, clad in only his boxers, crawled out of the window and onto the metal support system. Marco stifled a laugh as the dude reached back in for his pants and struggled to put them on.

"Oh my..." the freckled man snickered quietly.

Jean's highly trained ears picked up on his bud's laughing, "What?"

"Check it," Marco instructed, pointing up through the vehicle's open top towards the half-dressed fellow, currently trying to climb down the system of metal ladders. "Rough night, you suppose?"

Jean looked upwards and chuckled at a modest volume, "Fuck that, man, it's probably the best night of his life!"

Jean spoke a little too soon about the guy having good night, since the second the horse-face uttered the words, the poor fellow missed a step and tumbled down a floor before crashing right onto the alley concrete. Thankfully, a pile of trash bags cushioned his fall, therefore, the yelps he produced when he made impact weren't as loud as they could have been.

"Shit!" Jean cursed, quickly pulling his car into a roadside parking spot. He undid his seatbelt and jumped right out of his jeep without even opening the door before running to the fallen figure. Even when off duty, Jean still acted as if he was out of habit. Marco was feeling particularly lazy that afternoon, and settled for sitting in the car and watching his friend work.

"Yo, buddy!" Stepping up to the guy on the trash bags, Jean knelt down to get to his level, "You alright, man?"

He seemed to be moving slowly, turning over with the speed of a snail. "Leave me alone, yo, I'm good." When he did turn around, however, both men were very surprised with one another's identities.

"...!?"

"...?!"

"Jean?!"

"Springer?!"

He couldn't believe it, Connie Springer in the state of trying to escape a one-night stand... and with a full head of hair.

"Where the fuck did you get all this?" Jean demanded playfully, reaching over to hastily rub the moppy mess on Connie's cranium. "Did a squirrel die on your goddamn head?"

Connie guffawed loudly, "Yeah, says the guy who can't outgrow his horse-face!" He slapped Jean's hand away from his skull, "So, you in town for the reunion?"

Before Jean could reply, a female voice was heard from above. Looking upwards, Jean and Connie noticed a woman sticking her head out of the very window the squirrel-head climbed out of.

_"Connie Springer! You get back here, you lousy son of a bitch!" _

Jean raised an eyebrow before looking over to his old friend, "Who's that?"

"Just tell the authorities that if they find my body, it was Katrina from the pub on 4th street," Connie muttered very subtly. "We need to get out of here, NOW!" Tone suddenly turning serious, Connie stood up and started running out onto the sidewalk.

Jean flinched before running after him, "Go to the jeep, I'll give you a ride!"

Agreeing, Connie dove head first into the back of the vehicle while Jean opted to do the sensible thing, AKA, walking around the engine before opening the door to get inside.

When Connie landed and hit his head on one of the stuffed duffle bags in the back, Marco yelped in surprise and turned around, "What the- Connie? Hey! Long time no see!"

Connie grunted as he shifted himself into a sitting position, "Greetings, Marco. You still have your freckles, I see." The vehicle started moving as Connie pulled a seatbelt over his body.

"And I see that you have... hair? Oh my god, you have hair," Marco uttered in complete surprise. Reaching over, he did exactly what Jean did and ran his hand through the shaggy mane that functioned as hair.

"I know, right?!" Jean shouted enthusiastically, keeping his eyes on the road as Katrina from the pub on 4th street's yells faded into the distance. "It's a fuckin' miracle!"

Connie grumbled bitterly as Marco pet him like some sort of dog, "Goddammit! Is everyone at this entire reunion gonna pet me like an animal?"

Jean and Marco nodded and spoke in union, "Probably."

* * *

Jean pulled the jeep up into a free spot outside of the bar named 'Pixis's' and parked the bucket of bolts carefully. Marco opened the door and slipped out quickly, DSLR camera slung across his body as he stood up straight. Jean got out next, surveying the area carefully as he put on a pair of sunglasses to his face like a boss. Finally, Connie hopped out in his usual fashion, AKA, jumping out like a cat springing from a box. Thankfully, Marco had let him borrow a button up from one of the duffel bags he hit his head on earlier.

"See anyone we know?" Jean asked, slamming his car door shut.

Connie hit the pavement and landed like a secret agent. Upon standing up straight among his friends, it became apparent that he did not hit a growth spurt at all and still retained his short height. Heck, Jean had been the one to gain a few inches instead and was standing around the 6'0 line.

The hobbit in the making shrugged his shoulders, "Not yet, but just wait, someone's gonna turn up."

Marco shook his head, still observing streets and roads with purpose. "I'm unsure. But hey, that guy looks familiar." He pointed over to the road, where a man wearing goggles and a helmet rode a vespa through traffic at a decent speed.

Jean dropped his glasses down for a better look, suddenly realizing who this person was. "No fucking way, it can't be."

The vespa moved swiftly towards an empty spot, slowing down in a rather flashy fashion like a professional racer. Quickly, the rider removed their goggles and helmet to reveal their identity to the three grown-ups.

"Kirschtein, Bodt, Springer, it's been a while, hasn't it, gentlemen?" Armin Arlert greeted, rubbing his hand through his sweaty hair, which was cut and styled away from anything that resembled a coconut.

"Holy shit, Arlert!" Jean whooped, rather impressed at how well Armin maneuvered his vehicle. "Didn't know you were the motorist type."

Armin got off his vespa and set his helmet down, "A lot can change in 10 years, gentlemen." He stood up, slinging his messenger bag around his shoulder, "Myself included."

"Let me guess," Marco started, a small smile creeping onto his face. "Armin Arlert finally got out of here and travelled the world?"

"That shall be answered in Sina Academy's gymnasium, my friend," Armin answered like the most sophisticated man in the world. "Or at least, over a pint with you three fine men."

"Fuck, you have changed, Arlert," Connie admitted honestly, noticing that Armin called it a 'pint,' as opposed to a drink or a beer.

Before Armin or Marco could reply to Connie's cursing, they were interrupted by the loud bleeps of two separate vehicles. One being a fancy looking cadillac and the other being a clunky looking van that parked across the street from the pub.

The people in the van came out first, starting with the brunette driver who seemed to resemble an overjoyed hippie. Connie recognized her completely, waving happily to his old female friend, "Look what the potato dragged in!"

Sasha Braus let out an excruciating groan at the mention of her detested nickname, "Oh my gosh, Connie, you couldn't even wait one second to make a potato joke in my presence, couldn't you?" Connie shrugged in defeat as Sasha opened up the van's old side doors, letting out her passengers, "Hey, guys! Look what gaywads I picked up at the airport!"

Bertholdt shuddered painfully at the improper use of the slang word climbed out onto the pavement, "Sasha, just because Annie calls us that, doesn't mean that you're allowed to."

Sasha pouted, "What gives Annie that privilege over me?"

Annie Leonhardt came out of the old vehicle as if on some sort of cue, "Because I had the misfortune to meet these two when we were kids, and I claimed the title of _boss ass bitch who refuses to be told what to do_ years ago."

Reiner Braun's chuckles followed her words as he followed the tiny blonde out of the gas guzzler, "Damn, Annie, that's more words than I heard you say during the entire drive." Reiner reached over to Bertholdt and clasped his hands into his, as if it were the natural reflex.

This prompted Jean to have a moment of confirmation towards his friend's relationship status, Connie to turn his head oddly, and Marco to widen his eyes in horror, since this explained so many things that happened in the school locker room. At least if was confirmed that the two were not wrestling that one time in the showers, and if they were, at least there wasn't a loser.

It was apparent the second that the BRA trio stood up that Annie, like Connie, had not hit any sort of growth spurt over the decade. It still looked hilarious as ever. The potato girl and her passengers walked across the street to greet their friends.

As Connie approached Sasha happily and greeted her with a joyful hug, Annie couldn't help but notice the blonde kid clutching a motor cycle helmet in his hands, her typical glare that she hadn't out grown softening into a reaction of interest.

Snapping her fingers before pointing, Annie spoke with a slightly less bored tone than she usually talked in, "Do I know you?"

Armin blinked several times before answering, "Annie, I was in your chemistry class. We were partners."

"No, I was partners with this nerdy guy who looked like a coconut," Annie recalled. "He also had acne, smelled like a dog and burned his wrist on the bunsen burner."

Feeling the need to intervene, Jean reached over, lifted Armin's arm, and patted his shoulder, "Former sweaty coconut-head, in your presence, Leonhardt."

Annie looked surprised, "Oh my gosh, Arlert?"

Armin produced a wave and a chuckle, both being equally as weak, "Hello."

Impressed, Annie looked at him up a down, seeing that he had grown a few inches taller over time. In the time that she did this, Reiner felt the urge to make some motions that imitated a rather lewd and dirty act, only to be quickly stopped by Bertholdt and Marco.

"You've grown," Annie admitted as her final verdict.

Armin seemed to agree, "So have you."

They were all interrupted from the little moment between the two former lab partners when a rather recognizable voice boomed suddenly into the area.

_"How goes it, class 104? Does anyone have the bombs? Because the Jaegermeister is here!"_

Jean clenched his fist in a restrained matter, doing his best to fight the temptation to hit Eren right in the face out of old habit. Instead of resorting to physical violence, Jean simply turned his head to the side slightly, pulled a fake smile, and said, "What is it, Eren?"

Somehow, Eren actually laughed, "Nice to know that you haven't changed at all, Horse-Face." Tapping Jean on the shoulder in a friendly fashion, Eren looked over to the rest of the crew, "In all seriousness, it's nice to see you all."

"Definitely, Eren, we haven't spoken in years," Armin added dutifully. "By the way, is Mikasa with you?"

Eren nodded, pointing his thumb over to the cadillac from before, "Yeah, she's just finishing a phone call in the car."

When he pointed, the entire group turned their heads at the right moment to see Mikasa Ackerman opening the cadillac door before stepping out on the street.

Automatically, Jean's hazel eyes widen upon the sight of her. Despite the passage of time, not much had changed about her. While her height, hair length, and choice of clothing had changed, Jean felt a familiar sense of intrigue in his system upon seeing her creamy skin, muscular figure, pale lips formed into a flat line, and the same determined expression in her glassy-grey gaze. At one point, he started wondering if the wind was actually blowing on her like in the movies or if he was just imagining it.

"Jean, you're drooling," Marco whispered to his friend, who appeared to be in a trance. "I thought you grew out of that."

"Shit..." Quickly regaining his composure, Jean wiped the fluid off his face before standing up straight and looking normal.

Mikasa no doubt noticed this upon getting close enough to the group, "Hey, is something wrong with him?"

Shaking his head hastily, Jean somehow managed to reply, "Nope, nothing at all!"

"Good," Mikasa admitted in a common tone. "It's nice to see you, Jean." At least she didn't forget who he was.

"Nice to see you too, Mikasa," Jean replied, taking a slight notice to how well her blouse hugged her body. _Very nice,_ he could've added. Thankfully, out of common sense and a willingness to not look like a creep, he did not.

Noticing that she was ignoring the rest of the group, Mikasa was quick to acknowledge them, "And it's nice to see all of you too."

The group all smiled at her, with the exception of Annie, which was completely expected, even after all these years. Annie gave Mikasa a simple nod, which was always good enough from her.

Seeing as no one else seemed to be arriving, Armin decided to speak up next, "So, since enough of us are here, shall we go inside for a pint?"

Connie groaned loudly, "Fuck, Armin! Just call it a beer!"

* * *

Inside, more people were waiting inside. Way more people.

From Thomas Wagner and his receding hairline, Samuel Linke-Jackson and his terrible sideburns to Hannah and Franz. (With the inclusion of their infant son, Matthew.)

Even Ymir was there, still alive and sane in all her freckled evilness. However, one thing particularly interesting about Ymir's presence was the fact that Historia was nowhere to be seen. It was peculiar, but no one dared to question Ymir about it.

Sitting down around the tables, bar, and booths, everyone settled in, ordered drinks, and shared stories.

Details about lives were all shared amongst the old classmates.

Surprisingly, Reiner got his dream job and became a sports agent, and Bertholdt managed to nab a job as a worker at a REC centre. They also revealed their engagement to everyone, certified with the gold metallic bands wrapped around their left ring fingers.

With her criminal law degree, Annie explained her plans to fix the justice system within the walls, very minimally however. It was reduced to her saying, "Every criminal fucker I see's gonna be locked in jail where they belong."

And even Sasha managed to follow her life goals, despite how ironic it seemed that Sina High's unofficial Potato Girl drove herself hard enough to get her chef licence and a very high end job at a 4-star restaurant.

Finishing his story about how Jean nabbed his first drug dealer after a month of being an officer, the horse-face found himself buttoning up his shirt once everyone at his table had seen his bullet wound.

"... and that's how I took down the Bozardo meth lab with only this scratch left on me," Jean ended, smiling proudly at his badass feat.

Blinking, Sasha chugged down her drink before speaking, "Well, Jean, that's quite the story."

Agreeing, Connie stepped in, "Yeah. Who knew the chances of the bullet missing your heart?"

"That's like, one in a million, I think," Armin added in, counting the probability on his fingers.

"Yep, I'm a lucky man," Jean beamed, patting his scar painlessly. "At least that's what Marco says, right?" Turning to his left side, Jean expected to see Marco beside him, sipping a drink and waiting until the story was over. What met him instead was an empty stool. "Hey, where'd Marco go?"

The freckled ebony-haired man happened to be leaving the bathroom at the moment, opening the door with a paper towel, since only the lord knew how many people actually washed their hands after doing their business.

Once he was out, he stepped onto the bar scene, noticing how many more people had entered the bar in the last 5 minutes. Some faces were recognizable, like Mylius and Nac, which was a bit of a relief.

He tried to move through the crowd of people in search for his original spot at the bar. As if he were a secret agent, he managed to side step like a crab and make it through the sea of people. Somehow, as Marco maneuvered, he bumped rather harshly into someone who was sitting at the corner of the bar.

The person was confirmed to be female when she yelped loudly, "Hey! What the hell!?"

Out of habit, Marco became apologetic instantly, "I'm sorry! Large crowd and all that jazz. I-I didn't mean to!"

The female rubbed her shoulder somewhat painfully, looking up at him, "It's fine. It was just my a-" She stopped automatically when she got a look at his face, "M-marco?"

His brown eyes enlarged somewhat greatly upon the sight of this human being, "Mina? Mina!" If it weren't for him getting a look at her face, Marco would've passed her off as just another person with their hair tied up, since her adolescent pigtails appeared were currently MIA. "Hi!" He waved his hand at her too quickly for it to be considered normal.

"Hi!" Her voice was shaking, perhaps she was just as nervous as he was on the ride over. "I-i-it's been a while, r-right?"

"Yeah, feels like a decade!" Bad jokes, this was a sign that Marco's nerves were starting to effect him beyond his control.

Mina chuckled, whether it be out of courtesy or because the joke was genuinely amusing, "No doubt. So, what've you been up to?"

Figuring that a conversation was about to be initiated, Marco sat down at the empty stool beside her. "Nothing serious or dangerous, to be honest. I'm a photographer now, so there's that."

Leaning on her elbow, Mina seemed intrigued, "Oh really? What happened to becoming an actor, Mr. Bodt?"

"Well, Miss Carolina, I've been asking that to myself for the last year and a half," Marco admitted, his tone turning somewhat sour. But all in all, he tried to remain positive, "What about you? What've you been doing lately?"

Mina was about to reply, but before she could, she was interrupted by a grey-haired man swooping towards her side, greeting her with a peck on the cheek.

"Finally found a spot for the car," he informed, a little too strictly for enjoyment. Quickly, the grey-haired dude looked right over to Marco, "Who's this?"

Mina took the initiative, "Boris, this is Marco Bodt, an old..." She hesitated in search of a proper word. "... friend, of mine. And Marco, this is Boris Feulner, my boyfriend. He's a stockbroker, likes mystery novels, and believe or not, doesn't dye his hair."

Marco's throat suddenly itched, prompting him to make a straining noise as he spoke, "Ahhhh... that's nice. You're her boyfriend?"

Boris nodded proudly, arms draped around Mina, "Yep, I'm a lucky man, Mr. Boat."

"It's Bodt."

"Yeah, sure."

Cutting in once more seemed like a good idea, since Mina could sense conflict coming from a mile away. "Erm, hey, Boris, did you know that me and Marco used to be in show choir together?"

Marco nodded hastily, his voice still sounding different than his usual tone, "Yeah! Remember the duet we did during senior year? Once Upon A Dream?"

Mina recalled with much detail, nodding enthusiastically, "From Sleeping Beauty! Of course, I remember that, Marco. It took me days to completely memorize it."

"Too bad we couldn't perform it at nationals," Marco admitted, recalling the dark spot of the past. "At least the nursing home loved it."

"True," Mina agreed, pointing at him with the same confidence-struck smile she had yet to outgrow. "And we got an amazing sitting ovation for the performance."

Boris let out a minutely humoured chuckle, "Oh my, Mina, no wonder you barely talk about your past."

"I just have my reasons against it, Boris," Mina confessed, turning to him and ruffling his hair affectionately. "Besides, we've only been dating for a year and a half."

Marco was about to speak, but Jean popped up onto the conversation right as he was about to, somewhat empty glass in hand and his best friend's camera slung in his grasp, "Hey, Marco, do you think we can start calling you Freckled Jesus again?" Eventually, Jean noticed that he was cutting right into the three-way interaction between the trio of adults. "Oh, whoops, am I interrupting something?"

Mina rolled her eyes amusingly, "Hello, Jean. I see that you and Marco are still as close as ever."

Jean noticed her quickly, "Oh, hey there, Mina." He then looked up at Boris, "And who's this geezer in the suit?"

"Boris Feulner," Boris introduced. "I'm Mina's boyfriend."

Jean made an intrigued face, "Boyfriend, huh?" An awkward moment was just mere seconds away.

Jean glanced to Boris and Mina for a second, "So you and him are together..." He then looked over to Marco, who seemed to be holding back a blush with all his might. "... and you and her used to be together..." He then proceeded to gulp down the rest of his drink, since embarrassment was about to be welcomed like an old friend. "... and I'm just making it awkward for everyone, aren't I?"

The trio of adults all nodded, Marco flushing like a tomato on fire.

Jean set his glass on the table, finished with his one and only drink, "I should probably go, right?"

"Probably," Marco agreed, patting Jean on the shoulder.

"I'll make like a tree and leave then," Jean agreed, turning around. But before he could, he mumbled some words to Marco, "I'm driving for today, so feel free to get wasted in the next 2 hours." Also, he shoved Marco's camera into the owner's arms. "Don't lose this either."

Marco agreed, since there was a chance that drowning his dilemma in bitter brew felt like a good course of action. "Will do."

As Jean soon left Marco's side, the bartender finally got around to taking Mina and Boris's orders. The tall balding man with a name tag labelling him as Dot, had an apologetic expression, "Sorry for the wait, but at least you had time to decide. What'll it be?"

"A pint of your finest for me," Mina requested politely.

Boris was very quick to interrupt, "She'll take some tonic water, if you'll please. And I myself shall take a negroni." Mina looked at him with a look that was the embodiment of the phrase 'wtf.'

"What?" Boris wondered, clueless towards the situation. "You're driving, aren't you?"

"I guess," Mina shrugged in defeat.

Dot nodded kindly before turning to Marco, "What about you, freckles?"

Marco followed his instincts and ordered what his gut instinct told him to order, "Martini, please."

Dot complied, "Can do, but we're out of olives at the moment."

"I'd be satisfied even if it were vodka in a glass."

* * *

Jean scooted back down to his original booth, only to quickly realize that most of the original sitters were standing and socializing. The only one who happened to be left there just happened to be Mikasa.

"Hey, did the plague strike back or something? Where'd everyone go?" seemed like a good way for Jean to initiate a conversation with her.

Mikasa looked up at him from looking at her phone and shrugged, "They just left. Ymir saw Historia, so she evacuated the area. I think everyone's trying to find her."

Nodding, Jean relaxed in his seat, "Cool." Twiddling his thumbs mindlessly and a good pint of liquor in his system, Jean found it easier to speak to his former classmate/person he thought was attractive during high school. He couldn't find it in himself to call it crush, which was far too juvenile of a term. "So... whatcha' doing there, Ackerman?"

Mikasa was stuck between looking at her phone screen and making eye contact with Jean. "I'm just trying to get some work done. I'm an art curator and my boss needs me, even on the weekends."

"Ah," Jean agreed. "So the famous Mikasa Ackerman actually went to art school?"

Mikasa gave him an affirmative nod, "Of course. But I was this close to studying paediatrics before I got the scholarship."

"What about that sport agent who came to the championship soccer game, huh? She seemed pretty interested in the team, if you ask me," Jean opinionated, leaning back comfortably.

Mikasa shrugged, "She wasn't interested in me. While we were changing, she spent most of her time talking to Hannah and no one else." She took a tone shift, trying to lighten the mood, "But enough about me though, what made you become a police officer, Jean?"

He threw his hands up in the air, unsure on how to start the story. "I don't really know, to be honest. I guess um... the whole lacrosse scholarship didn't happen, my drawings were second rate, and I completely messed up my audition for the Stohess Dance Academy." The story was becoming as bitter as black coffee faster than one expected. "There wasn't really much left for me to do, so I snagged myself a criminology degree from a community college and signed up to become a cop. Simple as that."

Mikasa seemed surprised, "You tried out for the Stohess Dance Academy? That's one of the toughest performing arts schools to get into. How did you get an audition?"

"Someone saw me in the production of West Side Story we put tried to put on senior year," the former portrayer of Riff Lorton explained. "I don't know what they saw in me, though."

"They probably saw plenty, Jean," Mikasa acknowledged, not even noticing how wrong that statement sounded. "You were one of the best dancers in the school."

Shrugging, Jean somewhat agreed with her statements, "Yeah, I suppose. That was back then though, I'm fine with being a cop now. Besides, I can still flip the same way I could back in the day."

Intrigued and interested, Mikasa raised an eyebrow, "Oh really? Prove it."

Jean smirked as he stood up, "Challenge accepted."

Thankfully, before Jean could climb on the table and perform a dangerous stunt in a crowded room, the former owners of the empty seats returned, some more intoxicated than the others.

"Hey, Kirschtein," Reiner started, sitting down with Bertholdt. "Me and Bertl rented a cabin a few miles out of town for the long weekend. We're hosting a party tomorrow night, care to join us?"

"It depends though." Jean quickly returned to earth and settled in his chair. "Who else is invited?"

"The whole class," Bertholdt informed, looking around. "The cabin can house me, so it'll definitely be large enough."

Armin chortled slightly, "Hey, good one Bertl. You should try stand up."

"I'm sure he could if he somehow got his sweating problem under control," Annie muttered at a minute tone. Fumbling in her bag, she pulled out a thin metallic case that any adult would recognize. "Hey, Kirschtein, do you still smoke?" She took one cigarette out of the metal protection and tucked it behind her ear before offering the case to her horse friend.

Jean put his hand up to decline, "No thank you, Annie, I've been trying to quit for a while."

Surprisingly, Armin spoke up with something that wasn't a lecture about smoking risks. "May I have the honor of bumming one of these off you instead?"

Eren blinked in complete surprise at his childhood friend's new habit, "Holy shit, Armin, you smoke?"

The only one who seemed more shocked than Eren was Mikasa, who soon took on the tone of an overbearing mother, "I am completely dissapointed in you, Armin Archibald Arlert!" Somehow, she still remembered his middle name.

Annie did not protest when Armin took a cancer stick for himself, "Who knew it, huh?"

"Well, on a trip a few years ago, I shared some pleasant cigars with some fine men in the Dauper village," Armin explained. "I'm a light smoker, anyway."

Annie stood up on her feet, "You're still going to have to step outside though. Mainly because Hannah and Franz brought a fucking baby to a bar."

Armin agreed and followed her out, "Will do, Miss Leonhardt."

"It's Annie," she corrected, leading him through the crowd. "Just Annie."

"All right then, Just Annie," Armin complied, throwing some humour into his tone. "Goodbye, fellows."

With that said, Just Annie and Armin the sophisticate stepped out of the crowded place for a somewhat calm smoking session.

Once they were gone, Eren retained his surprised expression. Though, it was more pleasant than Mikasa's. "Hm, who knew what some travelling could do to a guy."

"At least he's happy," Reiner added, taking a long pull of his lager. "But back to the main subject. Jean, you coming tomorrow night or what?"

"I'll be there," Eren pointed out, causing Mikasa to sigh, which meant that she had no choice but to follow him there too. "And Armin said he'd come."

"It's not like the reunion itself," Bertholdt explained. "Just a little pre-party before the actual reunion at the academy."

Jean complied completely, nodding his head, "I see no reason why not. As long as things don't get out of hand. I'm an officer now, remember?"

"Of course, of course," Reiner agreed, trying his best to seem professional. "But this is one of my parties that we're talkin' about, Jeanny. There ain't gonna be any promises."

Eren smiled somewhat devilishly, "Challenge accepted, Reindeer."

* * *

_**I should really rename this chapter to 'Exposition Load.'**_

_**Did you like it? Did you hate it? Did you consider telling me in a review? **_

_**I'm open for all criticism. Yes, even ship hate. Come at me, bro.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own. **_


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